So sorry for the long break. October, November, and December are my busiest times of the year at work. The good thing about this season is I actually economize my writing time and my articles. For most of the year it’s a free for all and I just go crazy. I thought this article would be really brief, but it turned into a monster. Better yet, I think I’ve found some more specific locations to explore as a result.

So What Slowed Me Down This Time

Honestly, I’m re-watching Twin Peaks since the first time it originally aired when I was in high school lol. Family stuff. Work stuff. Yada yada yada.

Culture Day also Slowed me Down

Hell, on October 4th it was 文化の日 Bunka no Hi Culture Day and I had a half day, so I went crazy. I couldn’t stand another minute in the office and the only way I could take in some Japanese Culture was to go see a movie by myself[i]. So I watched We Are Perfume. As a pretty dedicated fan for about 9-10 years, I think it was time and money well-spent. It wasn’t history, but it was nice to just have fun and got me thinking a lot about how Japanese culture has and hasn’t changed over the centuries. The film is a documentary about their 3rd so-called “world tour” and so it focuses on how Perfume is received abroad[ii] and how the group experienced their appreciation and fame abroad. As the only foreigner in the theater, I could sense how Japanese people were looking out at the world with fascination at fans from Taiwan, Singapore, Los Angeles, New York, and London. All of these fans were looking right back, trying to get a glimpse of some aspect of Japan.

Here on JapanThis!, I think a lot of the same thing happens. If web stats are anything to go by (and they are), there are a lot of people from Japan looking to see how foreigners view their history. There are also a lot of foreigners wanting to learn more about Japan. I find this mutual fascination very comforting – beautiful, really. If there’s ever any hope for world peace and understanding, it’s through mutual respect and understanding. Maybe Perfume is some aspect of disposable pop culture. But, hey, samurai were disposable, too. They gave it a good run, but you don’t see them around anymore, do you?

Anyhoo, I’m not gonna ramble on anymore about how I tried to justify my use of Culture Day by watching a documentary about Perfume that set me back $25[iii]. But I did do some reflection on the context of Japanese history and everything I know about Japanese Culture in its various fluctuations over time. And I’m pretty sure the first shōgun 徳川家康 Tokugawa Ieyasu would not only be totally WTFed by this movie – he would have totally been #TeamKashiyuka.

On the left, you can see the Sumida River. In the middle, the Arakawa and Ayase Rivers. On the right, the Nakagawa. Come back to this map later and you’ll see more familiar faces.

Sorry For All That. Now, Let’s Get Down to Bidness.

Today, we’re talking about an area of Tōkyō that isn’t so famous. Tōkyōites know about it, but probably just as a train station. The area is called 四ツ木 Yotsugi and is located in 葛飾区 Katsushika-ku Katsushika Ward and it lies between 中川 Nakagawa (literally, the “Middle River”) and the parallel stretch of the 荒川 Arakawa Arakawa River and 綾瀬川 Ayase-gawa Ayase River. Long time readers may recognize the area due to its proximity to お花茶屋 Ohanajaya, 宝町 Takaramachi, and 曳舟 Hikifune. It’s also not very far from 向島 Mukōjima and 浅草 Asakusa.

Afterhours, Shotuku Taishi knew how to party. This has led to his everlasting fame.

History of Yotsugi

The earliest mention of Yotsugi is an inscription[iv] on a statue of 聖徳太子 Shōtoku Taishi at 西光寺 Saikō-ji. The statue has the presumably authentic date of 1341 written on it[v]. This is roughly 140 years after Minamoto no Yoritomo’s death so let’s put some things into perspective, namely why is Yoritomo even relevant to the story? He may or may not be, but when he became the first shōgun of the 3 great shōgunates[vi], his government put Kantō on the map – politically and economically speaking. Edo was just a fishing village at the time, but the proximity to the shōgunal capital of Kamakura was a massive boon to tiny villages in the area. By 1341, power had transferred back to Kyōto in western Japan with the establishment of the 室町幕府 Muromachi Bakufu Ashikaga Shōgunate. 140 years had passed and the prestige of Kantō was diminished.

The earliest surviving textual mention of Yotsugi comes to us from 1398 (Muromachi Period) in a document called 下総国葛西御厨注文 Shimōsa no Kuni Kasai Mikuri ChūmonShimōsa Province’s Kasai Mikuri Annotation[vii]. It references a place called 四ﾂ木新田村 Yotsugi-Shinden Mura Yotsugi-Shinden Village.

In the Edo period, this area was primarily agricultural – fields and trees as far as the eye could see. It fell under the administration of 江戸葛飾郡 Edo Katsushika-gun Katsushika District, Edo area. Yotsugi was technically under the direct control of the Tokugawa Shōgunate, but administration was handled by various organs of the shōgunate over the almost 250 years of Tokugawa control. These ranged from 町奉行 machi bugyō[viii] to 旗本 hatamoto direct retainers of the shōgun to 大名 daimyō lords controlling the bordering 藩 han domains – but more often than not, the administrators were high ranking hatamoto.

It lay along the 本所上水 Honjo Jōsui Honjo Clean Water Aqueduct, which was later known as the 葛西用水 Kasai Yōsui Kasai Aqueduct[ix] or more popularly as the 曳舟川 Hikifune-gawa Hikifune River. The site where the Hikifune River and Ayase-gawa intersected offered a scenic riverside view that Edoites cherished. This spot was where the Hikifune Towpath began.

Hiroshige-Hikifune

Because of its proximity to the shōgun’s capital and its scenic beauty, it was a popular destination for Edoites who wanted to get out of the city for a day or two. The most popular destinations were the religious institutions of 西光寺 Saikō-ji, 客人大権現Maroudo Daigongen (modern 渋江白髭神社 Shibue Shirahige Jinja Shibue Shriahige Shrine), 木下川薬師 Kinoshita-gawa Yakushi (modern 浄光寺 Senkō-ji), and 柴又帝釈天Shibamata Taishakuten. With the exception of Shibamata Taishakuten, these temples (and one shrine) are pretty minor, but in the Edo Period they were quite important. Each site is pretty interesting in its own right, so I may come back to them in a later article – especially if you guys are interested in that.

Shibamata Taishakuten

During the Meiji Period, the area remained rural and agricultural – it was more or less unchanged from the Edo Period. However, in 1912 (Taishō 1), 四ﾂ木駅 Yotsugi Eki Yotsugi Station was built. This made the area accessible and factories that wanted to take advantage of the space, cheap land, and access to rivers for distribution and “waste disposal[x]” were set up in the area. It’s around this time that the area became famous for the production of celluloid[xi].

Old Yotsugibashi

In 1922, a wooden bridge called 四ﾂ木橋 Yotsugibashi Yotsugi Bridge was built across the Arakawa River linking 墨田区 Sumida-ku Sumida Ward and 葛飾区 Katsushika-ku Katsushika Ward. In the chaos following the 1923 関東大震災 Kantō Daishinsai Great Kantō Earfquake, the 旧四ﾂ木橋 Kyū-Yotsugibashi Former Yotsugi Bridge – as it’s known today – was the site of wanton racist attacks against Chinese and Koreans living on the Sumida Ward side of the bridge. Apparently, some Tōkyōites blamed them for the earfquake or just took advantage of the chaos to indulge their own fucked up racism. At any rate, another wooden bridge was soon built and life went on as usual.

In the post-WWII years, the area rapidly urbanized. City historians cite the building of a new 四ツ木橋 Yotsugibashi Yotsugi Bridge in 1952 as making urbanization possible. Prior to the post-war era, cars were relatively rare in Tōkyō – trains and trolleys were the norm. The new bridge was a modern truss bridge made of steel that allowed automobile traffic to cross the Arakawa in this area. The area’s agricultural heritage began to fade quickly.

In 1964, the name was changed from 四ﾂ木 Yotsugi to 四つ木 Yotsugi and astute readers will note that the only change was orthographic: katakana ﾂ tsu became hiragana つ tsu.

Hikifune River Hydrophilic Park today

In 1989, during the Bubble Economy, the 曳舟川 Hikifune-gawa Hikifune River was filled in due to pollution and presumably to use it as a sewer. The remaining marshes that surrounded the river also became landfill. By 2000, the only left over bit of this once scenic Edo Period day trip spot was present-day 曳舟川親水公園 Hikifune-gawa Sunsui Kōen the Hikifune River Hydrophilic Park.

。

Let’s Take a Look at the Kanji

四 yon

4

ﾂtsu

Not kanji, but a syllabary character used to indicate pronunciation.

木 ki, gi

tree

In Pre-Modern Japan, there weren’t writing standards as we would recognize them today[xii], so the place name was written as 四木, 四つ木, or 四ﾂ木 – all read “Yotsugi” or “Yottsugi.” The final variant was the most common in the Edo Period because the first variant was ambiguous as to pronunciation[xiii].

Unfortunately, due to the seemingly mundane nature of the kanji, the origin of this place name is either a just mystery or could be one of the most boring place names ever. That said, we do know that the area appeared on Pre-Meiji maps as Yotsugi Shinden Mura, which literally means Yotsugi New Field Village.

Theory 1: The Trees Did It

There used to be 4 tall pine trees in the center of the village.

This is the simplest and most literal attempt at an etymology. It’s hard to disprove without corroborating evidence and it’s impossible to prove without corroborating evidence. That said, roads, trains, or routes in general can be counted with ～本 –hon/-bon/-pon. So, while the kanji looks like 4 trees, it could be 4 routes – which we’ll get to a little later.

We have no paintings or literary references to 4 huge trees in the area from any point in history, so I’m gonna have to say this is iffy. It’s not impossible, but there’s just no way to prove it one way or the other.

Founder of the Kamakura Shōgunate and Unlucky Guy With Horses, Minamoto no Yoritomo.

Theory 2: Minamoto no Yoritomo Did It

This theory is actually 3 interpretations of the same story.

First, there’s a legend from the Edo Period that 源頼朝 Minamoto no Yoritomo passed through the area 4 times coming and going on various expeditions to put down resistance of the 藤原氏 Fujiwara-shi Fujiwara clan. According to this theory the name is derived from 四ﾂ過ぎ yottsu sugi the 4 passes through the village.

Second, in coincidence with the previous etymology, this theory often claims that as Yoritomo’s army was composed of various samurai warlords who supported him with their armies, this was the most convenient spot to meet. They came from various regions and converged upon this area, camped out, resupplied, and then moved on to battle. Therefore 四ﾂ過ぎ yottsu sugi actually means “4 armies passed through” or “4 armies passed through on 4 roads.” The idea of four roads leading to this area stands up to a point – after all, the 古東海道 Ko-Tōkaidō Ancient Tōkaidō Highway passed through here[xiv]. However, no one seems to agree on which roads are referenced in the name.

Lastly, another interpretation of this theory is that Yoritomo and his army passed through the small village at 四ﾂ過ぎ yottsu sugi just past the 4th hour. Prior to the adoption of the western hour, the Japanese used temporal hours. That is to say, the “hours” were of unequal lengths that varied throughout the seasons[xv]. The 4th hour was more commonly called 巳 hebi the hour of the snake[xvi]. If my sources are to be trusted, the meaning of “just past the 4th hour” means “roughly after 10 AM.”

Passing through the village 4 times might be possible, but I don’t have access to records that record Yoritomo coming to Edo 4 times. I’ll have to defer to Yoritomo nerd out there. But even if he did, I just don’t think people would name a village after that unless he established a shrine or something one of those times – and I can’t find any evidence of that, either. Also the reference to 4 armies is ambiguous so again, I’ll defer to the Yoritomo nerds on this one.

And while the 4 routes theory seems reasonable, the lack of agreement on which roads these would have actually been makes that theory questionable at best. Naming a village after the approximate time a bad ass samurai warlord strolled through town in an era when the chances of a bad ass samurai warlord marching through any given place were reasonably high, seems tenuous at best.

It may be made of 4 kinds of wood – hard to tell from the picture – but it’s also made of metal.

Theory 3: Shōtoku Taishi Did It

Long time readers will know about 聖徳太子 Shōtoku Taishi Imperial Crown Prince Shōtoku or Shōtoku the Great Teacher. He was an imperial prince and one of first great propagators of Buddhism in Japan. He lived during the Asuka Period[xvii].

In 四つ木一丁目 Yotsugi Icchō-me 1st Block of Yotsugi, there is a temple called 西光寺 Saikō-ji Saikō Temple. The temple was established in 1225 at the beginning of the Kamakura Period and as far as written records go, it pre-dates the first record of the place name Yotsugi by about 100 years. Saikō-ji claims to have statue of Shōtoku Taishi that is made of a unique combination of four kinds of wood. In Japanese 木 ki means both “tree” and “wood,” thus they say the name is a reference to this revered Buddhist statue.

That’s all well and good, but time and time again we see temples claiming to be the namesake of an area when in fact, the place names pre-date the temples. Some objects in those temples match the place name by coincidence or have been deliberately manufactured to match the place name. In any case, I find this etymology highly dubious.

This is the Japanese word for “heir, successor” – yotsugi. It’s one of the most generic words you can imagine.

Theory 4: A Truly Half-Assed Folk Etymology

A noble family’s 世継 yotsugi heir lived here. See what they did there? Yotsugi and yotsugi are homonyms.

I’ve come across a lot of stupid folk etymologies[xviii] over the years of doing this blog and this one falls into the top 5. This is like getting a place name like “Trust Fund Hill.” Sure, it’s possible, but it’s just too vague for me. Without a family name a reason for them to be here, this reeks of people just making up shit.

A 4-way intersection in West Tōkyō.

Theory 5: The 4 Roads Did It

This theory posits that the original reading was a 四辻 yotsu tsuji 4-way intersection – or possibly 4 intersections. This ties back into part of the theory about Minamoto no Yoritomo.

In ancient times, there was an intersection of 官道 kandō provincial highways in the area – or so the story goes. Kandō were established under the 律令制 ritsuryō-sei ritsuryō system in the 600’s based on the Chinese model and the word literally means “government road.” The kandō would later evolve into the 街道 kaidō highways that most people associate with Pre-Modern Japan – the Edo Period in particular. The term kaidō is even still used today when referring to old highways that survived into the Modern Period.

In the Yoritomo Did It Theory, the number 4 and the idea of 4 roads was a persistent theme. This theory asserts that certain aspects of those theories are true but suggests that the name may actually date back to at least the Heian Period or earlier. Having 4 kandō in the area (or a whopping 4 major intersections of 8 roads, depending on which interpretation you choose), would definitely be something special. Trade would be massive and travelers and armies passing through the area would be a constant source of income. You can see how a place might come to be called Yotsu Tsuji since that the area’s defining characteristic.

In Yoritomo’s time, there may not have been 4 great highways in the area anymore. It’s actually unclear if there ever were, but the one fact we do know is that in 1341 we find the first record the place name. It is written as 四木 with the character for “4” and “tree.”

There’s a Yotsutsugi Station in Yamaguchi Prefecture.

This is actually the best theory that I’ve come across. It’s pretty believable and there are place names all over Japan based on the kanji 辻 tsuji crossing. It’s not unreasonable to imagine Yotsutsuji getting contracted to Yotsuji in the local dialect since the /tsutsu/ in the middle is awkward. A phonetic change from Yotsutsuji → Yottsuji → Yotsuji[xix] seems fairly consistent with Modern Japanese slang, dialects, and even the slurred speech drunk old men. I don’t see why a similar transformation couldn’t happen in older versions of the language.

The only problem? There’s no agreement on the exact routes that existed here from 600-1200 in the area. Furthermore, the just because the theory suggests kandō, any street or path can intersect with another one. This could be a reference to really minor routes. The area was always rural until quite recently[xx] and that’s probably the reason we never hear about the great trading village of Yotsugi. But again, if it’s a particularly ancient name, it might have just had its boom when no one was taking things seriously Kantō, the roads fell into disuse, and only the name remained with new kanji because there were no long 4 intersections to speak of.

______________________________________[i] It was my first time to see a movie by myself. But Japanese people travel abroad and watch movies and karaoke by themselves a lot recently, so I was OK with it. But still, that first time is a little scary or embarrassing.[ii] Japanese people tend to be shocked that anyone understands them. That said, god damn, foreign Perfume fans are a bunch of fucking weeaboos. Ewwww.[iii] Yes, it fucking costs 2000円 ($20 USD) to see a freakin’ movie in Tōkyō.[iv] This is called epigraphic evidence in diachronic linguistics as compared to textual or manuscript evidence.[v] The actual date in Japanese is 暦応4念7月5日Ryakuō yon nen shigatsu no itsuka 5th day of the 7th month of the 7th year of Ryakuō.[vi] The Kamakura Shōgunate (headed by the Minamoto and Hōjō clans), the Muromachi Shōgunate/Ashikaga Shōgunate (headed by the Ashikaga clan), and the Tokugawa Shōgunate/Edo Shōgunate (headed by the Tokugawa clan).[vii] The name 下総国葛西御厨 Shimōsa no Kuni Kasai Mikuri Kasai Mikuri, Shimōsa Province refers to an area of Kasai. The last word 注文 chūmon usually means “order” as in “order at a restaurant,” but it has a secondary meaning of “explanatory text.” Not sure what chūmon means in this context. This document came up in 2014, in my article on Kameari.[viii]Here’s a quick explanation about machi bugyō.[ix]上水 jōsui, literally “high grade water,” refers to aqueducts that supplied drinking water. 用水 yōsui, literally “usable water,” refers to aqueducts that supplied water for irrigation, washing, firefighting, and general use.[x] Read: “pollution.”[xi] Celluloid is a tough, highly flammable substance consisting essentially of cellulose nitrate and camphor. It’s used in the manufacture of motion-picture film, x-ray film, and other products.[xii] And to be honest, even in modern Japanese, there is so much flexibility that people exploit the looseness of spelling for humor or slang all the time.[xiii] Without the kana ﾂ tsu, the name could be read: Shiki, Shigi, Shimoku, Yonhon, Yotsuki, Yotsugi, or possibly by some other regional variants. And why the katakana character was more prevalent than the hiragana character is a mystery. I can only speculate that the katakana was easier to write because the brush strokes were more similar to the cursive style of kanji and therefore more quickly written.[xiv] On JapanThis!, I often reference the 東海道 Tōkaidō the Eastern Sea Route of the Edo Period. In Modern Japanese, this Edo Period highway is referred to as the 旧東海道 Kyū-Tōkaidō the Old Tōkaidō or Former Tōkaidō. The 古東海道 Ko-Tōkaidō Ancient Tōkaidō is a slightly different route. Vast stretches were abandoned over the years as the Tōkaidō was made more efficient by centuries of successive logistical demands.[xv] ie; western hours were equally 60 minutes each and did not change with the seasons.[xvi] This kanji is from the Chinese zodiac. The usual kanji for snake in Japanese is 蛇 hebi. People often translate this as “the hour of the serpent” because it sounds more classical, I guess. But same difference.[xvii] I’m not going to get into his story because I have many times before. Here’s my break down of Japanese Eras. And here’s Shōtoku Taishi’s story. If you want to know more, I suggest you check those out.[xviii]Folk etymology is when people just take a guess at the history of the word without paleographic or scientific inquiry.[xix] Bear in mind, this is completely hypothetical on my part.[xx] And by recently, I mean the last 100 years.

Finally… my 7 part series on the rivers of Edo-Tōkyō is finished. The task seemed a little daunting, but worthy of doing.

“A little daunting,” I thought!

It was soul draining to say the very least. I had to take long breaks during the research phases even in the writing phases just to keep my own sanity. Any of you also follow me on Twitter know I’ve been busy with other stuff as well.

But this entire experiment has been eye opening for me. What started this series was a curiosity about the rivers that breathed life into this sprawling metropolis. Anyone who’s ever seen any 浮世絵 ukiyo-e scenes of day to day life in the shōgun’s capital surely have noticed the abundance of river scenes. This is no mere coincidence. Readers of the blog should also know that I’m a big fan of Jin’nai Hidenobu’s phrase “the Venice of Asia” when referring to Edo.

In Japan’s post WWII years, as the economy grew, the rivers got more and more polluted and some of them smelled awful (the Meguro River was no exception). Major building projects began to take place in Tōkyō Bay and rivers that were used as drainage and open air sewers were paved over or diverted and drained completely. I don’t know if this is 100% accurate or not, but the first time I visited Shibuya in 2001 or 2002[ii], I noticed an odd smell and asked my friend about it. He said, “There are dirty rivers under Tōkyō. Sometimes their smell just comes up through the cracks.”

Sometimes their smell comes up through the cracks, indeed.

Cruising on the Meguro River.

Are You Going to Talk About the Meguro River??

Yes, of course. Sorry about the digression.

The start of the Meguro River is the confluence of the the Kitazawa River and Karasuyama River.

What is the Meguro River?

In reality, the Meguro River is a nothing more than a glorified storm drain today. Its official length is 7.82 km. It begins at the confluence of the 北沢川 Kitazawa-gawa Kitazawa River and the 烏山川 Karasuyama-gawa Karasuyama River. It passes through 世田谷区 Setagaya-ku Setagaya Ward[iii], 目黒区 Meguro-ku Meguro Ward[iv], and 新川区 Shinagawa-ku Shinagawa Ward[v] and empties into Tōkyō Bay at 天王洲 Ten’ōzu in Shinagawa.

The End of the Meguro River in Shinagawa. Hello, Tokyo Bay! This structure is called the 目黒川水門 Meguro-gawa Suimon “Meguro River Floodgate.”

The Meguro River Midori Michi

The confluence of the Kitazawa and Karasuyama Rivers is located in Karasuyama (in Setagaya). The rivers are actually underground, so you won’t see much there, though there is a monument. The emergent Meguro River is also underground. A little water is diverted to ground level and manifests as a small, decorative creek. This area is called the 目黒川緑道 Meguro-gawa Midori Michi Meguro River Green Path. The man-made stream and its accompanying vegetation attract a variety of wildlife whose populations and health are closely monitored to maintain a healthy “green space.” A short distance away, at 大橋 Ōhashi, literally “the big bridge,” where 国道 246号 Kokudō 246-gō National Highway #246 passes, the underground river and the creek are re-united at the mouth of the visible portion of the river.

Water breathes life into the city. It’s so important to have green spaces like the Midori Michi.

Much of the modern course of the Meguro River is supposedly the old Shinagawa River. However, there hasn’t been a river called “Shinagawa” for hundreds of years. In casual conversations, I’ve heard a lot of confused explanations for the existence of the place name “Shinagawa” despite the lack of a river bearing the same name[vi]. The most repeated stories usually reference a 川 kawa river used to bring 品 shina/hin products in and out of the bay. Whether that derivation is true or false is a discussion for another article.

Are the Meguro River and Shinagawa River the Same Thing?

Short answer, yes.

View of Ebara Shrine from Shinagawa Bridge.

But I Think the Long Answer is More Interesting.

It’s not much of a long answer and more of a series of tangents. Wanna go there?

I’ll preface this digression with 2 facts: modern day Shinagawa is spread across both 港区 Minato-ku Minato Ward and 品川区 Shinagawa-ku Shinagawa Ward, modern Meguro lies in 世田谷区 Setagaya-ku Setagaya Ward. However in the Pre-Modern Era, both villages lay in 武蔵国江原郡 Musashi no Kuni Ebara-gun Ebara District, Musashi Province.

Family crest of the Minamoto, the shogunal family.

In 1184, Minamoto no Yoritomo sent an edict exempting his distant clansmen in the Ebara District from imposing superfluous taxes – other than annual land/rice taxes – on the peasants of the area[vii]. These relatives were the 品川氏 Shinagawa-shi Shinagawa clan. Apparently, this is the oldest document referencing Shinagawa. But as we’ve seen time and time again here at JapanThis!, when a new branch family was established, they would take a new family name based on the fief that they controlled. In the case of Shinagawa, this shows the place name Shinagawa clearly predates this remote noble family.

The Ōi Clan – River Makers

Anyone familiar with the Shinagawa area will know 大井町 Ōimachi. If your place name radar just went off, you’re probably right. I haven’t covered Ōimachi yet, but believe me, it will happen.

The Shinagawa clan was branch of the main 大井氏 Ōi-shi Ōi clan[viii]. In order to irrigate their fief, the Ōi clan dabbled in a little river manipulation. Somewhere near the place called 立会川 Tachiaigawa (the modern kanji mean something like “the place where rivers stand together/come together”), the Ōi separated a section of the river 断ち合い川 tachiai kawa rivers that cut off from each other[ix]. This happened in the Kamakura Period. One of the branches passed by 瀧泉寺 Ryūsen-ji Ryūsen Temple in Shimo-Meguro (see my article on Meguro).

Once the Shinagawa and Meguro River, today it’s the Tachiaigawa River. This bridge is Namidabashi in Shinagawa. It was the final “bye bye” place for families and the soon to be executed.

Interestingly, the Ōi were a branch of the 源氏 Genji Minamoto clan (and as such, so were the Shinagawa). The Shinagawa and Ōi retainers made up an auxiliary force of samurai called 随兵 zuihyō or zuibyō[x]. In the Kamakura and to a certain degree in the Muromachi Periods, these were low ranking, sometimes mounted, warriors who were called in for important jobs such as making the shōgun’s procession longer when he didn’t have enough people; making high ranking shōgunate officials’ processions look longer, you know, when they didn’t have enough people; and protecting 神輿 mikoshi portable Shintō shrines when they were transported from a main shrine to a newly established branch shrine… in a procession, of course.

The Meguro Clan – They Didn’t Do Shit

In neighboring 江原郡目黒郷 Ebara-gun Meguro-gō Meguro Hamlet, Ebara District, another noble family supplying 随兵 zuihyō to the Kamakura shōgunate had also taken the name of the local area and were known as the 目黒氏 Meguro-shi Meguro clan. Supposedly their residence was the site of the present day Meguro Junior High School. No extant remains are visible today.

But back to the river. As we’ve seen throughout this series, before the so-called Modern Era, there was no standardized, official naming system as we have today. River names were generalizations and local areas had local names for their little slice of the river. Hence the river was called the Shinagawa River in Shinagawa and the Meguro River in Meguro.

It’s interesting to note that Edo Period maps and illustrations don’t use the word 目黒川 Meguro-gawa Meguro River to describe the river that passes by Ryūsen-ji. The river in Shimo-Meguro is called the こりとり川 Koritori-gawa. The word こりとり koritori comes from syncretic Buddhism and Shintō. In kanji, it’s written 垢離取り kori tori. This refers to the act of ritually purifying oneself in water before visiting a temple or shrine[xi]. The kanji for kori literally mean 垢を離す aka wo hanasu getting rid of filth[xii].

Before there was the Ice Bucket Challenge there was “kori.”

Which Brings me to my Final Point

Why where people jumping in the river to get rid of spiritual impurities? If you noticed, earlier I dropped a reference to Ryūsen-ji. This is a temple in 下目黒 Shimo-Meguro Lower Meguro. There are many claims that the name of this area comes from this temple. In the Edo Period this temple was one of a cluster of temples called 江戸五色不動 Edo Goshiki Fudō the5-Colored Immovable Buddhas of Edo. However, most linguistic evidence indicates that the name is quite ancient and has nothing to do with the temple. That said, if you’re interested, I think I wrote an article about this somewhere…

Pilgrimage map.

Coincidentally, people jumped into the river during the firebombing during WWII. The river was said to be littered with corpses for weeks. There’s an ancient superstition that says cherry blossom trees require human blood to grow and that underneath every cherry blossom is a grave. The events of WWII and this superstition are sometimes invoked by old people who have lived in Meguro since the war days. They say the cherry blossoms are so beautiful because they’re fed by all of those who died in the river during the firebombing. It’s a kind of ghoulish thought, but I can guarantee you, plants and trees can grow just fine without human blood.

Two cherry blossoms means two dead bodies. Awwwwww yeah.

But as I said earlier, the Meguro River is basically a drainage ditch. But there are many 桜 sakura cherry blossoms planted along its route in Naka-Meguro. As a result the area has become popular for 花見 hanami cherry blossom viewing. Food stands are set up and cafes and restaurants that line the river do a lot of business catering to the crowds admiring the pink and white leaves. Normally, living next to a drainage ditch doesn’t give you bragging rights but Naka-Meguro has become one of the most desirable areas in Tōkyō. But this wasn’t all the case. The area was one of the least desirable areas until the late 1980’s. The river was seriously polluted until a major clean up and attempt to revitalize the area was begun. The cherry blossoms were planted at that time.

[i] See my article What does Meguro mean?[ii] I don’t remember and don’t have my old passport to confirm.[iii] Here’s my article on Setagaya.[iv]Here’s my article on Meguro.[v]Here’s my article on Shinagawa.[vi] I wrote article about Shinagawa and Takanawa, but it’s so old that I don’t want to include a link. Embarrassing. I promise to revisited the topic again some time.[vii] The surviving document is the 品河三郎清実に品川郷の公事免除 Shinagawa Saburō to Kiyzane/Kiyomi ni Shinagawa-gō Kōji Menjo Exemption from Official Service for Shinagawa Saburō and Shinagawa Kiyomi of Shinagawa Hamlet. (The name 清実 has many possible readings, so I’m not sure which is correct. I provided 2 possibilities and have chosen Kiyomi from here on out).[viii] Anyone familiar with the Shinagawa area will know 大井町 Ōimachi. If your place name radar just went off, you’re probably right. I haven’t covered Ōimachi yet, but believe me, it’s in the works.[ix] I’m not sure if this was one branch irrigation ditch or a many….[x] A kind of rear guard.[xi] The act of visiting a temple or shrine is called 詣で mōde or 参り mairi.[xii] Buddhist monks would read this as ku wo hanasu getting rid of ku. Ku is filth that causes suffering. Here’s what wiki says about it.